The Old Republic: Freelancers
by daennika
Summary: Tales of a young bounty hunter, a Sith Warrior, an Umbaran Mandalorian and more mercs trying to make their way in the galaxy. (Some violence, some sexual themes)
1. Chapter 1

**Star Wars  
_The Old Republic:_**  
**Freelancers  
**

**Part One: Daen**

The light started to fade on the flank of the apartment tower as she waited outside in the airspeeder, observing the traffic down below through the side viewport. No lights could pierce the darkness of the lower city of Coruscant. And not from this altitude. She imagined dropping a glowstick to see just how far it would go before disappearing, or smashing in someone's windshield, causing an accident.

Running out of patience, she looked herself in the rear view monitor, adjusting a few locks of black hair behind her ears, fixing an eyelash that was bothering her during the flight. Her lips felt dry and she'd forgotten to bring some balm with her. Oh well. Even though he wouldn't be looking at her that closely she needed to feel good about herself, however vain that seemed.

Finally there was movement on the balcony she was stalking, a door slid open and a black shadow with red trims walked out on the ramp to sit itself heavily on her passenger's seat.

"Long day at the office, _My Lord_?"

An armored hand touched the door switch to closed position. "Just drive," he said with a sigh.

Smiling to herself she pulled the speeder away from the balcony and headed towards the floating skylanes. Rush hour, too late to find a shortcut, and she could use the quality time spent in traffic before they reached destination. Something was bothering him, it showed even though he was wearing a mask. Drake and her had been friends for as far as she could remember; fate had just decided for him to be... different.

"I'm glad you got here," he said, "what I need right now is a fresh glass of _no authority_."

"Can't do much about that with the creepy suit on." Daen reached for the on-board computer to activate the music station, setting it on low volume.

He turned his masked face towards her. "After all these years you still don't appreciate the uniform. It's got more class than your friends' merc gear."

"They do what they can to get by," she said, "and you can blame your colleagues for spreading the bad rap on your _uniform_."

She didn't need to remind him about the assault on the Jedi Temple, not today. Still there were times when she wished she had been there to change his mind about volunteering. They would have run away together and stayed under the radar while the galaxy dealt with its problems alone.

"Look," he called out, pointing a gloved finger towards a skyscraper ahead. "They finished that new tower last month. You talked about moving here before, haven't you?"

"Drake, I was _twenty_. And have you seen the rent in this district?"

"Those are really nice apartments, I looked it up on the Net."

"I couldn't afford it, not even if I turned my family to the Hutts."

The Ceras were banned from Nal Hutta because of a sabotage mission going wrong. Mak Cera – Daen's adoptive father - had miscalculated the explosive charges on a precision strike, destroying the wing of a Hutt palace. Then Load had tried minimizing the damage by taking out half of the guard, and stealing cargo on the way out. All repairs were paid but they were to never set foot on the planet, or cross path with Hutts again.

Drake touched the computer screen to browse her comms and she had to swat his hand away, knocking into the Cotorsis gauntlet which hurt a little.

"What are you doing? That's my privacy you're nosing into."

"You really have too much stuff in this database. What if someone steals your speeder, huh? No more work, no more credits."

"Oh," she took a sharp turn to pass a vehicle on her left. "Because moving in with you and living off your Imperial paychecks is the better option?"

His voice became softer. "You should be more open to the opportunity. It wouldn't cost you anything, just like living in your parents' freighter. Only in a bigger place and I'll be right next door instead of having you coming all the way over here."

They finally got into the entertainment district. Daen found their usual parking lot in a lower basement beneath a commerce tower and turned the music off with a flick of her thumb behind the steering handle.

"You know that I like being on the move," she tried to say with more calm. "No attachments, no restraints."

"I know, we had this conversation before." He shifted in his seat and reached behind them while she parked the speeder. "You made your own choices and I respect them."

She switched the head lights off and extracted her key card from the console, then darkness filled the compartment. Drake handed her the gloves and helmet she had kept on the backseat.

"We turned out okay, you and I," she said with a light pain in her chest.

She could only see him as a shadow reaching both his hands to his head. The next thing she heard was his own voice, husky and unfiltered. "I never doubted that."

He moved in to kiss her. Touching his bare face she closed her eyes, feeling the softness of his cleanly shaved cheeks, then her fingertips met a painfully deep scar under his jawline. She repressed a sob. They met once a year at best and every time she discovered new wounds, and worse disfigurement. Even if she did not ask who had done that to him she knew he was feeling her anger.

Sith warriors constantly fought and tricked eachother for power, to gain rank and impress their masters, but she tried not to wrap her mind around it. The sight of one of them walking around in Drake's same cloak and armor was enough to make her blood boil.

Pulling away from him she sniffled loudly and wiped her hands up her forehead to flatten the hair on her scalp. She slipped the helmet on, clipping the seals down on her collar and watched the HUD system come online. With her own gloves on she was now confined in the isolated climate of her suit, with its heavy plating and hidden artillery in almost all places. The anonymous mask and the threatening look of her outfit made her feel closer to him somehow.

Drake nudged her back to her senses and they exited the vehicle. "Come on, we got work to do."

They got to the open air plaza of the entertainment district which was crowded with more lifeforms than a small planet could withstand. It was night time, but the numerous signs and colored neon lights made it as bright as noon. Daen had trouble sorting through her biological filters and her HUD kept focusing its scans on every new species or humanoid that walked by.

Drake kept a short lead on her left – only a head taller than her, the crowds seemed to part in front of him like pushed away by an invisible shield. But seeing the look in their eyes and optical organs it was clear that none of them wanted to come close to a Sith. It was nice not bumping into them but she felt exposed, and observed. Turning her head slightly towards them was all they needed to suddenly go about their business.

"They remember you," Drake said, hardly covering his voice. A female Rodian startled before cowering deeper into the crowd. "Soon you won't need to send out resumes to find work."

"To me they seem more fascinated by their shoes right now."

"Don't let that fool you," he scornfully replied, "with a passive attitude and false concern in the eyes, anybody seems innocent."

She smirked beneath her helmet, sent back into her memories from a time when he wasn't even an Imperial yet. "But _you_ know better, don't you."

Turning his head towards her she couldn't see his mask because of the hood of his cloak, luckily the crowds became less dense now and she walked up to his level, careful not to step on his draping.

"Times don't change that much," he said.

She nodded, spotting the lounge where they had to make contact with an informant. She had no idea who it was, it changed every year.

"Go around the back," Drake told her. "If our Jedi is in there he'll most likely take the service exit once I come in."

She threw a look inside the lounge – a strip club, really – and held her hands to her hips.

"What if he gets stupid and makes a scene?"

She heard a small chuckle behind his mask that wasn't picked up by his communicator.

"Too much collateral in there, no Jedi would risk waving a lightsaber two paces away from hot lekku."

It wasn't the first time they were hunting together, most of times simple criminals that harmed Imperial interests. Drake was trained for far worse but he chose the little jobs too... just to be with her, maybe? Daen followed his instructions before her thoughts became irrational. Finding a back alley around the square building the service door was exactly where she expected, but a bouncer stood there. A tall green-skinned Twi'lek who seemed to spend his daytime at the gym and the rest at the local fast-food diner. Daen walked carefully up to him, hands at her sides to show peaceful intent.

"I'm waiting for someone."

The bouncer with the large green head-tails opened his red eyes wide. "You!... You work with the Sith-- My apologies, sorry." He pushed the door control and it slid open. "Didn't realize at first, you know..."

Caught aback by his reaction she went along with it and entered the bass-abusive music-blasting smoky establishment. People dressed in their best party attire sized her up like she was the worse looking alien they'd seen, others cowered in that familiar docile attitude she noticed in the streets earlier.

"Don't worry," she mumbled to herself. "I won't confiscate your death sticks."

She was stopped by a line of females waiting to go to the sanitaries, but the main room was dead ahead, with tables, stages, strobe lights and really loud suggestive music that she had to filter out in her audio settings. There were a few humans but mostly Twi'leks dangling their lekku around, twisting and performing for credit chips. The patrons had portable devices that made it easier to tip if they wanted to.

Daen stood there, almost mesmerized by the multiple shows and tried not to let her mind wander. There were booths on the far left side of the lounge and a waitress was bending over to a customer, hard to see in the dim lights. The Twi'lek stood up and pointed across the room then a black shadow rose in front of her. Daen focused in her HUD to zoom in the picture. Black gloved fingers slid around the face of the purple-skinned waitress who smiled and winked at the man standing over her.

Typical, she thought. Unable to watch, finding it hard to breathe she forced herself to stay alert and pay attention. Someone came into her field of vision, all blurry and out of focus.

"Are you waiting in line?" shouted a female voice. It was strange to even find any female customers in here. Daen stepped aside and shook her head so that the young lady could walk away. "Oh, good. Thanks."

Hastily moving forward she needed to keep track of Drake but he was nowhere to be seen. Proceeding further inside would break the trust he had put in her, her place was at the back door. Once outside again the green bouncer revealed his sharp yellowish teeth in an annoyed expression.

"Couldn't find who you were looking for?"

"Hard to say at this time." A diplomatic answer, she felt proud of herself.

Then, with surprising speed someone bolted out of the door, sending the Twi'lek guard spinning and eventually falling to the ground. A blur of brown robes stopped at the opposite wall of the back alley, a male human Jedi with the typical Jedi outfit, armor, cloak, boots and unmistakable lightsaber hilt in hand.

She raised her blaster pistol knowing she wouldn't stand a chance against a Force-wielder who could swat away her shots like a mild annoyance.

"Freeze! Drop your weapon," Daen shouted at the top of her lungs. Once again, a pointless strategy given the situation. But a decade of police training still had a hold on her reflexes.

The young man – six feet tall, dark hair, light complexion - ignited his lightsaber illuminating the dark alley with a blue and white flash. With his other hand he showed his open palm; Daen felt the grip on her weapon loosen as if invisible strings were pulling away from her. She cussed out loud, knowing she was losing her focus and needed a new strategy. Where was Drake now that she was finally in front of a Jedi?

Acting on impulse, she dropped her weapon which flew off and threw herself forward on her unusual adversary. He caught the blaster he seemed so eager to catch with his Force trick which gave Daen the needed distraction to swing an armored foot up the back of his left knee where there was no protection. He fell on his side with a yelp. Daen saw her blaster dropping but was too busy getting back on her feet, and activating through her helmet the only weapon at her disposal that the Jedi couldn't bat off with his lightsaber: the gauntlet-mounted flamethrower.

The HUD flashed a warning in the middle of her field of vision: INCENDIARY FLUID FAILURE.

"What the frig?" she hissed.

Everything went blurry when the Jedi charged her, blazing blue saber raised to strike her down and she saw a flash of pure white, lifted her arms up as a reflex to protect her head. She fell on her back as something sparkled and she smelled charred metal. The bright blue light had disappeared in a shriek and the Jedi stood there, baffled at his deactivated weapon. Thank you Cotorsis plates, she thought.

More warnings popped up and blinked around in her HUD telling her that her weapon diagnosis system wasn't happy. THE FOLLOWING DEVICES ARE DAMAGED OR DISCONNECTED: GRILL – POISONATOR – FISHING LINE – KITCHEN KNIFE. So much for renaming her devices while bored. She really needed to modify the notification settings when she got back home. If she made it alive.

The alley was dark but a red light appeared accompanied with a low hum and the Jedi reignited his lightsaber. Daen got up again, now ignored by her opponent who focused all of his attention on Drake.

"Took _you_ long enough!" she sighed, picking up her blaster from the concrete ground.

Holding his red lightsaber in a low guard he barely turned his head to her. "You could use some practice." He nodded in direction of her hands. "You alright?"

Her heart was already racing from the adrenaline and it got a little worse. "Yeah," she said, breathing slowly.

The Jedi used the downtime to rush in for battle, both hands gripping his weapon tightly as he attacked. Drake immediately blocked his attempts at going through his defense, and pushed him ten feet away with his own powers. Daen wasn't a fan of Force displays, it made her feel helpless even when she wasn't involved in the duel.

The man looked a little dizzy from the invisible blow but got back into the fight, exchanging violent strikes against Drake again. Daen stepped back, mesmerized by the performance. Laser blades clashed and flashed until all of them turned their attention to the door as it opened again. A Twi'lek woman – young as well, probably still a teenager – stood there, eyes wide in shock at the scene.

"Liina!" said the Jedi, obviously worried and upset.

The blue-skinned girl – a dancer, by the looks of her outfit – hid her mouth with her hands and started to cry. "Harek, I'm so sorry!"

The only one who made abstraction of her interference was Drake. He pointed his blade in a horizontal angle and pierced the chest of the Jedi. Daen fought not to look at the girl's face when she cried a loud "No!", and picked up the discarded lightsaber. The red light from Drake's own weapon faded and he stepped away from the lifeless body.

The Twi'lek called Liina cradled the dead man in her arms, sobbing. Daen just wanted to leave her there and move on, but Drake stood over the girl.

"This is Sith controlled territory," he said, speaking softly but he sounded really annoyed. "He knew what the stakes were."

"But he meant nothing wrong!" she whimpered, combing the Jedi's hair with her blue fingers. "You didn't have to kill him!"

"It's my job to keep the people safe here, young lady. I should arrest you for endangering us all by bringing a Jedi within our borders."

"That doesn't make any sense," she protested.

Daen watched him kneel down to her level, he rested a hand on her shoulder and murmured. "He was using you for his own interests and assassinated many of our agents. He made you believe that he had feelings for you... but you know better now."

She almost instantly stopped sobbing and moved away from the corpse. With a black-gloved thumb Drake dried a tear from her cheek.

"I... I should go back to work," she said with an even voice. "From now on I'll stay away from the Jedi and customers who won't pay me."

And she strode back inside the club. Drake lifted his left arm up and tapped something on the inside of his gauntlet before walking out of the alley with Daen.

"That was awfully kind of you," she commented.

He grabbed her arm to examine the damage caused by the Jedi's blade before the Cotorsis plating could block it. There was a burned hole in Daen's combat suit showing her left wrist charred on the outside. It hurt like hell.

"Nothing a little Kolto can't fix," she said.

He looked at her through his mask. "When will you let me teach you to fight properly?"

She freed herself and they kept moving down the plaza, as two regular pedestrians at night. "I know you mean well but I'd rather have a strictly _casual_ relationship with you." There were dancing colored lights on a panel advertising a new holovid game and she let her eyes wander. "And Mak wouldn't be too happy about me training with a Sith."

Drake remained silent and she pondered whatever made him hesitant to reply. They arrived in front of the theater where a mass of people were gathered on the sidewalk and they looked at the strange couple, from a safe distance.

"You chose the right people to surround yourself with, Daen. No matter what they say."

She looked at him and met his gaze. That mask of his had become a reassuring sight. "I'm glad you think that, it matters a lot to me."

Twenty eight years old and no place of her own, recently laid off, still single and no kids, she had lots of reasons to feel insecure. When she wasn't helping Mak and Mora with private shipping – aka. smuggling – she traveled alone: scavenging ghost ships, bodyguard contracts, escorts, spying... And when she got tired she found Drake for a few days. He was her anchor to sanity and she liked to believe that he needed her, too.

They went back to his apartment where she could station her speeder in a private hangar, next to his own "Sith bike". It was a place he rarely used and never had anyone coming over for dinner so it looked bland like a hotel room.

"If you ever need paintings or nice decorations I can hook you up."

The walls were black, the carpet was black, the lights were dim. Perpetual darkness. With his red-trimmed cloak Drake looked like a piece of furniture himself.

"You're welcome to arrange it to your liking if you stay," he replied.

Out of her armor and into her sleeping slacks she went to stand at the window on the balcony and looked at the starry sky. Ships flew by with their bright traffic lights and ion engines powering up to pierce the atmosphere. Projectors slowly swiped the landscapes to position the highest towers, air speeders and taxis sparkled the invisible lanes below. Hours would pass by and she wouldn't get bored of watching Coruscant.

"I could get used to this," she thought out loud, playfully tugging at the bandage on her wrist.

He stood beside her, she felt a hand around her back and warm air in her neck. "Then don't fight it," he said.

She mustered the courage to look into his hazel eyes. His skin was as pale as she remembered, and this time he had cut his sand-colored hair a little shorter. The scar she had felt earlier went from beneath his chin to his right cheek, still red and swollen. A laser blade wound for sure.

"Another Sith did that to you, wasn't it?"

He nodded lightly and leaned on the railing. He wore the plain black clothes all warriors wore under their armor. "Yesterday. An apprentice challenged me after we had a little argument."

"An argument..."

"It doesn't matter now," he said after a pause. "He payed his arrogance with an arm and a leg. He gave his life for his stupidity."

"_Fierfek_, Drake. He almost cut your head off."

"Almost," he smiled. "I made tea."

She smiled back, it was so like him to go from terrifying stories to the mundane and innocent. It was probably that side of his person that helped him survive the Sith Academy.

"Of course you did."

They went back inside and the lights increased gradually, allowing her to look through her food cabinets and storage closets. There wasn't much to be found except for the basics.

"You won't find anything to steal here."

"Huh," she responded before sitting at the counter as he poured her a cup. "I don't _steal_."

"Then if I go through your things now I won't find Harek's lightsaber?"

"Harek?" _Frig, I forgot that poor bastard's name already._ "He didn't need it anymore."

According to Drake: killing people everyday was fine but stealing wasn't, and she spent her life salvaging other people's belongings. Daen bit the inside of her lips to keep herself in check.

"No." He sat opposite to her and looked at the wall for a moment. "A Republic spy would have used a better cover. Why send a Jedi?"

She slowly sipped the tea. "Maybe he did come to see that dancer after all?"

"In his robes and armor? It doesn't add up. No Jedi stands a chance in these parts."

His hands around the ceramic cup were rugged and there was some bruising. Daen had noticed the metallic knuckle pads on his gloves and they matched the markings on his skin. Yet another hint of how brutal his daily life was. She replayed the duel in her head.

"Is it true that he killed those agents?"

He looked at her straight in the eye before answering. "He might have."

"You could interrogate that Twi'lek later on, she might know stuff about her HoloNet lover."

A smile stretched his lips thin. "You believe that's how they met?"

"Everyone gets bored. Don't tell me you've been busy everyday since the peace treaty."

"My butt itches when I sit around for too long."

She nudged his arm with a cocky grin. "But you _love_ texting me. For _hours_. You have no idea how many times I risked my life to send you a reply."

"Right, because you have so much to do."

"Hey I may be unemployed but I ain't idle. Get yourself an obedient house slave if you want dinner and something to screw once a week."

Drake shrugged innocently. "Believe what you want, that's not my style--"

He froze in the middle of his sentence like he'd heard something.

"Ugh," she complained. "The Force is paging you?"

Checking the chrono on the wall's holo display, he put his tea cup down. "I may have to head out to the Academy soon."

"No time for a quickie?" she suggested hesitantly and followed him into his room.

"Afraid not." He grabbed a piece of armor, turned around and pulled her against him. She felt him rest his chin on her head. "But hold on to that thought."

He had different sets of the same outfit and armor and she helped him put on a clean one. After he had all the plates equipped and adjusted he grabbed his mask and she got him in his red-trimmed black cloak.

"So this time it's not safe to be seen together?" she asked, heart pounding. The idea of being left alone while he was out there always made her go irrational.

Lightsaber clipped to his belt, he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and he was all set. "You have the key codes to come and go as you please. Can you fix up something to eat for when I get back?"

"What?!"

"Ha ha," he said and poked her nose. "Gotcha."

She watched him leave with determination, not looking back and certainly not saying goodbye. Whatever was waiting for him at his headquarters she trusted he could deal with. For her part it was time to tend to her damaged suit.

She brought her belongings into the living room to work on her sewing skills and something dropped to the floor with a muffled thud. The Jedi's lightsaber. Daen picked it up, examined it closely to find any kind of marking on the metallic hilt. Her eyes stopped on the ignition switch.

"You're not _that_ retarded now," she said to herself.

Holding the silver tube as far as her arm went she squinted and pressed the button down. It shrieked and emitted that bright blue light she had seen earlier. Disconcerted by the absence of additional weight, she tried waving the thing around and heard it humming in the air. All of the sudden she imagined a similar light appearing in front of her, a red one, held by a black figure standing over her.

She pressed the button again and watched the blade disappear along with the creepy vision. The weapon had lost all its fantastic might on her and she just left it far away on the low table.

If another hunting opportunity presented itself she would have to get used to all of this.


	2. Chapter 2

The elevator stopped with a loud crank and the lights in the ceiling flickered, as if there wasn't enough energy to power the door mechanism at the same time. Lodius stepped out of the hazardous cabin and walked down the dim lit hall that lead to his apartment. It was the middle of the day, everybody was out working to afford the ridiculous rent here. With his armored boot he swept a pile of flimsi ads away from his doorstep and inserted his keycard to enter. He wondered why he needed one, he had nothing to hide.

But everything to conceal, so this _home_ was empty and he just needed to lie down until it was night time again. With his datapad propped up on his stomach to read himself to sleep, the scraping and scratching sounds in the wall behind him kept him very much awake. This rat situation was getting worse every day. His eyes wandered around the picture of a suspect, a female humanoid whose eyes were a little too close together to seem trustworthy. He was one to speak, never showing his face in public, never trusting anyone in the first place.

The bleep of the chronometer alarm on his gauntlet tore him out of his slumber. All thoughts of dreams and laze slipped out of his mind as he got off the bed and stripped of his clothes and armor. Even those who lived in the shadows needed to clean, sometimes. He didn't like bathrooms, though: he caught his reflection in the mirror and barely recognized himself. Tall, his hairless head was morbidly pale, blue eyes abnormally bright and sunken in deep black orbits. But he knew that according to his species' standards he looked healthy, incredibly fit, too. That was all he needed to know for now.

The second alarm rang on his gauntlet when he was outside, nineteen-hundred hours, and his appetite was rising. Food could wait - hunger was actually an excellent drive for the hunt. With the sun lowered behind the high horizon on Coruscant he didn't feel conspicuous, walking across the plaza in front of the Sith Headquarters. There were lots of bounty hunters like him around here since the Empire had commandeered the area and established clear rules of engagements regarding the non-Sith, or simply the non-aligned. With his dark armor and exposed instruments of destruction people wouldn't mistake his colors.

He waited a couple minutes on the plaza, time enough to memorize all the different shapes and species of mongrels who worked there and he could almost tell the Sith adepts apart now. Many Humans, he noted, holding their datapads close to their chest while walking up the steps on their way to manipulation and dark rumination class. A group of plain tunic-wearing Sith students walked out of the building, chatting lively with an air of cunning satisfaction on their faces. One of them broke out of the clique to walk straight to Lodius, waving to her friends. It was the narrow-eyed blond that pretended to be a Sith. He waited for her to hurry up to him.

"Lodius Cera?" She extended her hand out. He looked at it but made a point of making no physical contact with her. She was a Force-user after all.

"Seryna Merek," he said, nodding politely. "You couldn't have picked a more exposed location."

"I have nothing to hide," she said, fixing a strand of hair that fell loose from her tight bun. "I hope you don't mind being seen here."

He laughed internally. "Young lady, I _live_ off Sith credits. My only concern is whether you'll make it worth my time."

She smiled mischievously, or at least tried to, and lead him down a bridge over the main skylanes.

"This isn't an easy task I'm asking you but since you've worked with him before you would have no problem getting close to him," she said.

"We were only on missions together. The man went lone-wolf, it won't be easy to go near him without a good reason."

Indeed, Drake Riden would want something in return. A Republic infiltrator's head on a platter, for example. Drake killed Jedi like nobody's business and this Merek girl was going down a dangerous road, phishing for information on her dead colleagues like that. She thought she was safe.

"Pretend that you want to hunt with him again, follow his leads on the Jedi but instead you will report to me."

"A sound plan, ma'am. But I know Riden, he would have me dead the second he suspects something." He stopped walking, thumbs hooked to his belt, and paused for effect. "I accepted this deal because he caused me a lot of expenses over the years. So in case I'm being screwed by a pretty-looking rookie I want some hard evidence to work with."

Hands propped on her hips she looked him up and down then reached into a pant-pocket.

"I stole this from a Sith Agent who collected it from that Jedi in the Entertainment District. It's locked and encrypted... It could be a valuable lead."

Smirking beneath his helmet, Lodius extended his gloved hand to take the datachip. Merek gave it to him and sniffled nervously, nostrils flaring. _Gotcha._

"I believe that could work," he said with a reassuring tone. He turned the chip around between his fingers. "Are you sure this is legit?"

Her cheeks flushed a little, it was hard to tell with the sun in her face. "The Agent who found it is dead."

He could twist her neck and be done with her right now, obtain a substantial prize and move on. But this ran deeper than he thought. If she was watching the back of some teenage Jedi trash bag then there was probably someone else watching _her_ ass. The answer could be on that datachip that was now safely stowed in his gauntlet reader. He needed a good slicing computer though.

Or he could gain her trust, bring her defenses down and her mind would be his to command. Lodius was no Force-user, far from it. But he also wasn't reluctant to the usage of psychic abilities when it served his purpose.

"So," she sighed, "bring me information on his progress, then let me deal with the Jedi. By no means should we make contact while in his presence."

_Of course not, why would you show yourself rescuing your friends?_ Lodius smiled again, acting on his emotions to seem trustworthy.

"You won't be disappointed, Seryna."

The girl nodded sharply and looked him through his visor before averting her eyes as she walked back to the Sith temple. Headquarter, Library, City Hall. He wasn't sure what she was doing there if not playing dumb and not betray her true beliefs in front of Sith masters. Wasn't his business.

The datachip now, it had to contain vital information on the Jedi operations if she was so nervous to let it go. There was only one person he could rely on to get that data retrieval and it was quite a walk away, past the Commerce District and into the lower levels. He got onto his speederbike and headed down, under the bridge and into the fog of exhaust gases. The deeper he went and the brighter Coruscant looked, because it was night time and all the lights were turned on. Only the lowest places of Undercity were left in the dark, because of how much living there plain sucked.

So he entered one of the smallest hardware shop of the lower levels, a family business at first, bought off for a couple thousands and finally converted into a spare parts and computer fixing place. There was no one at the counter but he heard hydraulic tools being used in the back. Slipping his tall figure between shelves and small doors he finally got to the private hangar room where Tessan was working on her machines. She stopped soldering whatever she was fixing and lifted a pair of goggles from her purple eyes. Lodius smiled back at her.

"You weren't supposed to show up until tomorrow."

He lifted his helmet off and she threw her green lekku over her shoulders to give him a hug. She wore a loose shirt and a tool belt that looked at odds with her tiny skirt and combat boots.

"A last minute job." He looked over at the engine parts that were still fuming. "Where's dad?"

She lit up a smoke and made a thoughtful pout. "Haven't seen him since we dropped your sister off in the high skies. I hope he's not stalking her... again."

And there would be no need. He was already watching Drake so he could already assume what she was _not_ up to.

"If she was in trouble she would let you know."

"That's what I keep repeating myself." She walked carefully across the workshop to reach a kitchenette in the far corner, pouring a cup of caf and handing it to him. "And how about you, anything I can do to help?"

"As a matter of fact, I could use your code-cracking skills."

She inspected the chip and went to sit at her cluttered desk where her terminal was. The screen filled with green text and kept scrolling down for a moment. Lodius tasted the hot caf, appreciating the effect it had on his mood.

"Are you hungry, baby? I can fix you up something real quick."

"That's okay, mom." He smiled thankfully. "But I got dinner plans tonight."

"Bring some rice cake with you anyway."

He had to nod and smile reassuringly: his no-face-in-public rule made it impossible for him to have a normal meal in the presence of others... besides family. The scrolling of text stopped and he got closer to read whatever names appeared. There were a few conversation logs, credit transactions, HoloNet program recordings, shuttle fares and schedules... It sure was plenty.

"Wonderful. Could you copy those for me?"

"I can translate them into _mando'a_."

He paused and looked her sideways. "But... you wouldn't do that. I may need to share this intel with other people."

"Of course, I'm just kidding. And who else would be interested in this?"

"Drake, for one. We're still trying to flush out the spies."

After she copied the data she stared blankly at the wall for a few seconds.

"You be careful out there. If I could still fit in my armor I wouldn't be able to sit around and beat myself over how both my kids ended up playing with that Sith." She gave him the datachips and got up, pulling another wisp of her smoke. "I still want to have this get-together on Ord Mantell, with everyone including him. Might as well make him officially part of the clan."

"I can see how that would benefit our situation here," he replied cautiously. "I'll have to bring that up to him."

She smiled and went back to her mechanic work, squatting down to pick up her plasma torch.

"So what is that engine for?" Lodius asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, that. Some kid stalled around the corner and brought his swoop here. Told him I'd take a look."

He laughed, genuinely amused at the thought. Tessan was, despite her age, still a very attractive and desirable Twi'lek. Or maybe it was the tough talk and the tool belt that did the trick. But compared to the fresh meat on the market she didn't get as much attention as she used to, and mid-life crisis didn't help. It probably explained the outrageously short skirt.

"Well I'll let you to it, ma'. Just make sure you don't send off the wrong message with this sort of favor."

She slid her goggles back on and grinned, looking completely goofy. "If you contact your sister tell her to bring some groceries, for once."

As he walked away he remembered to pick up a piece of rice cake in the refrigerator, wrapped up in flimsi. Helmet back in place, Lodius left the shop, carrying precious information and high spirits for his next task.

Finding Drake was easy, the man had his own apartment near the Entertainment District where he usually patrolled, sometimes with others, Lodius was certain he could bump into him just by walking down the main boulevard. And it was night time, the perfect setting for a Sith in dark armor to meet his cooperator.

"The plan seems to be working."

"She felt the need to give me this on our first meeting."

He stood a little shorter than him, actually, but his posture and the menacing air of his mask could make anyone shake in their boots. Lodius handed him the chip and leaned casually against the lamppost in the alley. Around the corner there was a club and a snack bar. His stomach growled.

"What does she intend to do once we have this?" The man's voice sounded raspy because of electronic filters. It was actually a casual tone for a man in his early thirties.

"We're supposed to go after Jedi, and she plans to rescue them. One by one."

"She thinks she has it all figured out..." Drake held the datachip between them in some kind of reprimanding way. "Whatever's on this can be used against us. They know what it contains and they'll base their next action according to what they assume that we know from it." He paused and handed it back to Lodius. "Was she comfortable in your presence?"

"Hard to say at this time. She's a manipulator too, after all."

"Bring her down a notch," Drake said with an amused overtone. "Those female Jedi love a challenge and will do whatever it takes to gain your trust and respect."

"Do you speak from personal experience?" Lodius attempted, almost regretting the question as he spoke.

"They'd be sorry for themselves if they still lived." He seemed to be pressed by time and even looked over his shoulder. "Be on your way. I'll contact you as soon as I got time for the Jedi spy."

"Drake."

He froze on his speederbike, ready to start the engines and he turned his hooded head towards Lodius.

"Take care of my sister."

Drake acknowledged him with a nod, and flew away in a burst of speed. Mom's dinner party invitation would have to wait. Stowing the chip in his gauntlet again he noticed a weight on his boot. A rat. It was eating crumbs that had fallen from his belt pouch, where the rice cake seemed to have been crushed in transport. Lodius dropped some more of the pastry so that a little vermin could fill its belly that night.

The thought of himself sharing his food with a rat made him wonder what Daen was up to, if she was cooking or would she go out to a nice place for a date with her secret boyfriend. They could both shed the armor and act as a normal couple. _Stick to the job_, he told himself. But it was club night, so he could salvage the day doing a little recon where Jedi were last seen.

With Seryna Merek's photo -among others - blown up large on his datapad he entered the one of the strip clubs hoping someone would recognize her. Actually he had a pretty good idea of where to look. The possible witness was this young blue-skinned Twi'lek that Drake had found crying over the dead Jedi. What was her name again? Leny? Lyra? Loogy? After a few attempts requesting his demand to the waitress she finally nodded and lead him into the hallway. The music was deafening but he filtered it out through his sensor monitors. There weren't many patrons around, sadly, to help with his investigation. The Agents must've scared most of them away.

So he was brought to a lounging room where he waited until the former Jedi's Twi'lek love interest came into the doorframe, looking frail and tired.

"Wh-who are you?" she stuttered.

Lodius presented his palms up in sign of peace. "I'm Lodius Cera. I work with Drake, we're trying to find the other Jedi who may have come here. Care to look at a few pictures?"

She carefully came closer to look at the stream of pictures on his datapad. She stopped and came back a few times on some of them, but then shaking her head.

"I already told everything I know to the others. Sorry."

Lodius watched her shrug and turn around to leave. He was far from done. "But you want to help _me_ this time, because if the Jedi find out that you ratted on Harek, they'll come after you. And you won't see it coming because they'd be wearing Imperial uniforms."

The dancer wasn't going to turn on him this time, not with that little brain of hers. She faced him again and nodded a few times. "I remember seeing the blond woman before."

"Good. Where?"

"I dunno, she just looks familiar." That shrug again.

"Was she a friend of Harek's?"

Biting her lower lip, furrowing her brow she seemed in deep concentration. And that was saying a lot for her kind. "I only recall Harek being upset about her for some reason. They had an argument or something."

Ah... So Harek was a dissident Jedi who wanted to enjoy himself instead of going undercover like it was asked of him. Lodius nodded approvingly to the girl and patted her head. Young creatures always liked a reward.

"That's a precious information. Thank you..."

"Liina."

"Hm?"

"That's my name," she explained with an eager expression on her grinning face. "Do you need more help? I can give you a lap dance, or I can look at more pictures..."

_Great. A clinger._

"Well sadly, Liina, I'm heading out for supper. And I doubt your boss would let you accompany me on your business hours."

She grabbed his arm, all excited as if she had won the lottery. But there was no lottery, just the emotional aftermath of being mind-influenced by an Umbaran. Lodius cringed and closed his eyes for a second.

"But I just got off work!" she said. "Take me with you, Lodius Cera. Please, please,_please, please, PLEASE!_"

"Okay... OKAY."

She squeeled. "_Yay!_"

The trip back to his apartment was of the most uncomfortable and unsettling, with the frantic blue thing attached to his hand. He had had other experiences of the same sort but on the moment was always more of an inconvenience. He didn't mind it so much that night, he would feel a little less lonely, and she would be gone in the morning, hopefully a little amnesic, too.

So he returned into the hazardous little elevator cabin, listening to Liina telling him about her beefs with other dancers, how she missed Harek so much after he got slotted, more for his HoloNet presence than his actual body. He also found out that she was trying to quit deathsticks but grief made it difficult.

"It's not grief," he said, fighting a yawn, "it's your miserable life."

And right there she started sobbing. Lodius let out an exaggerated _aww_ and let her cry on his chestplate all the way up to his apartment door.

It was very dark inside, from having no window to the outside and only the few little lights of appliances and electronics were giving a sense of space in there.

Liina giggled. "Where's the light switch?"

In a matter of seconds, he realized he wouldn't like admitting to have brought a Twi'lek dancer home, letting her eat and speak to him in the midst of his privacy. He removed his helmet and kissed her, removing any ambiguity regarding his intentions. As expected she did not reject him and did not object as she got taken into his room and thrown on the bed. She even helped him undo his complex armor straps in near complete darkness, something he was sure he would regret later, and soon they were both in the nude. He let her taste him and feel him against her but she was too drunk with some kind of hypnosis effect to realize what or who he was.

Lodius didn't care about the ethics of his methods for mating more than how he handled his hunting tactics. It was all about the moment and he enjoyed feeling Liina's warm loins while she clung to his neck as if there was no tomorrow. At least, he thought smiling to himself, she had stopped talking, and the rocking sound on the mattress was drowning out the rat noises in the wall. Then out of nowhere it struck him that it was difficult to lay with Twi'leks because of their lekku, they couldn't lay on their back comfortably. And turning them the other way made it just too weird, Lodius didn't like how those things shook and shivered, it was plain wrong.

When it was over the rats decided to go back to their tunneling and Liina didn't seem to care, she lied on top of him, blissful. "It was wonderful, Lodius."

He sighed audibly. "Don't mention it."

His stomach complained again and it made her giggle. That annoying little squeaky voice for animated holotoon characters that aired every morning. He eventually ate the rest of his rice cake alone in the kitchen while reading the decrypted datachip. His attention lingered on a call history; he could find out who those numbers belonged to and he was ready to bet that one of them was Seryna's unless she had erased it. Either way, those comlink numbers were obviously leading somewhere and if this was a trap then she would be watching his every move. That was not acceptable, he would have to teach that Jedi a lesson.

Putting his armor back on in the dark thanks to his well-adjusting eyes, and once he was wearing his helmet again nudged Liina who was asleep on his bed. She moaned sleepily.

"Okay, time to go."

She stretched like a feline and he switched the lights on. She squinted, he didn't even flinch thanks to the flash dampers on his visor and savored the sight of her body one last time. She truly had some appeal, but she was so young and dumb as rocks.

"No, I'm staying," she said, smiling and trying to get him to be nice.

He pulled his blaster out of its holster, and held it at his side as a threat. "I'm a hunter. Bad shit happens all the time here so you don't want to be in the way."

"Fine, I get it." She started pouting and got off the bed to put on her underwear. "Where should I go now? My boss is gonna kill me for leaving the house."

"You've got to be kidding me..."

"I don't go out with just any guy, ya know? You said you knew Drake, and he's a friend. _And_ you're a polite gentleman. That's the perfect gig."

He needed to bang his head against the wall a few times, or slap himself real hard. Of all the people he could screw that day, he had to go and get himself a complete nut case.

"Take your chances with your boss, or get killed here either way," he growled, hoping she'd freak out and run.

The pathetic blue thing started crying again and looked up at him with angry eyes. No, Lodius told himself, there was no way he'd keep such a stupid creature in his life, it was bad for business. Bad for the family. He pointed his weapon to her head.

"Sorry but you really can't stay."

Afraid at first, she took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Do it," she said, her voice cracking. "I never had the courage to do it myself."

He thought of himself splashing his walls with blood and brains, then taking the body to a dumpster and finally scrubbing his apartment clean. That was not Lodius Cera, loyal contractor of the Empire, Jedi hunter and bringer of hard justice. He'd have to deal with her later, as humanely as his nerve would allow him.

"Lock yourself up. Speak to no one and don't leave until I come back."

He braced for an agitated series of hugs and praises. She was, after all, never going back to that whore house again. The Jedi would find the way to make her spit out the truth about him, and his deal would be compromised.


	3. Chapter 3

The dark halls of the Sith Temple were in their usual silent state even with the occasional clashing of weapons, Cotorsis blades, that the adepts practiced fencing with. Drake entered the duel room and watched two black-clad men fighting and they were giving quite a show for a couple of teenagers. One of the watchers across the ring drew his attention; the short Zabrak with the hood down, he was looking straight at him. After the fight was over – the defeated asked for mercy, which he was denied – Drake followed the crowded of red-trimmed cloaks out of the room an adjacent hall where none would follow. There was a lot of light because of the high windows on this part of the templed.

"I hope your little exploits have earned you much fear and respect."

He turned around and saw the tattooed man's face smiling sardonically. There wasn't much blue left between the black markings. Drake greeted him with a lowered brow. "What exploits? I was taking out the trash."

"Of course," Nial politely replied with a nod. "No one would want to see their target lost to the hands of the garbage man."

"Ouch." Drake feigned offense. "I'm sorry to hear that, my friend. Got to have eyes everywhere."

Whatever amusement was left in the Zabrak's eyes suddenly faded and Drake felt a cold knot climb up his throat. Despite his shortness Nial went up to him, face to face, menacing. He could have sworn his irises had gone from brown to amber.

"I'm warning you, Riden. My time will come and I'll be first in line to rip your treacherous little heart out."

"Good. I need my enemies where I can see them." Drake took a step aside to walk down the hall, expecting to be followed. "Lunch?"

Nial stretched his lips in a solemn expression. "Yes."

There was a mess hall in the Sith Temple for the occasional officers, foot-soldiers and guards working there everyday but Drake would have none of it. Actually most Sith would rather starve themselves than to mix with ordinary folk, which was a good enough excuse to get away from the hierarchy once in a while.

They walked out of the Temple with ease, everybody looked the same in uniform, especially when masks were involved, while Inquisitors or Sith Lords generally dared wander with their faces uncovered. Drake liked the freedom that he had just by not sticking out from the crowd of spooky figures. And fear had its undeniable advantages.

"These habits will get us killed someday," remarked Nial before biting down on a hot, greasy nerf steak roll. "In all possible ways."

Drake finished munching on the spicy mix of meat, cereals and bread, and swallowed it down with difficulty. "Poetic. That's one more missed calling for you, Lord Nial."

He sensed gazes and heard all sort of curious comments around them in the diner. It wasn't a restaurant or a caf tap. Just a low profile joint for underpaid citizens, privateers and the occasional smuggler. Nial raised a black-gloved hand towards the waitress, but the forty-something year old beauty stayed behind the counter. The owner came instead. Fat old Weequay in his grease-stained apron and mean scars across his exceedingly creased skin. Letting out an audible sigh, Drake took another bite of his lunch and avoided staring directly into the chef's eyes.

"Tell me something," he said, fists resting on his hips. "For how long am I going to have you boys frighten my costumers? Do yourselves a favor and meet up with your friends in upper class establishments."

Nial cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. "No one looks frightened to me, chef. Now relax, and have your lady bring us a jug of tea. She will be rewarded."

The Weequay flared his nostrils then sharply turned his head towards Drake, waiting for a different kind of answer.

"Whorehouses don't open 'till five," he shrugged.

"And people wonder where their tax money is going..." The owner rambled off, going back to his stoves. When he left they didn't seem to have an audience anymore.

Drake would have wanted to say that this was work for him, all the time. He would have also wanted to remind them all that he was protecting these citizens by being among them. And if they stopped being so self-righteously outraged about that and just accepted that they weren't able to take care of themselves, things would go much more smoothly. But no one cared about justifications and rationale, not in this time and place. A Sith would have jumped on the occasion to affirm his power over the people and punished whoever stood in his way, because confrontations caused chaos, and chaos brought opportunities for power. He just wanted his homeworld to be safe. Smugglers, armed gangs and drug dealers just didn't work in his direction, and so he would keep on having his lunches at their meeting spots until they'd take the hint.

The Twi'lek eventually served them tea under the unveiled contemplation of a tactless Sith Zabrak.

"You should talk to her." Drake sipped on his cup and burnt his tongue. "She can't reject you, not in the first hour at least."

Nial emitted a puff in disbelief. "Got no time for these games, Riden. I'm not like you, my mind is ever focused. Distractions make us weak."

"Maybe your alien brain can take the pressure, maybe I like to multi-task."

He crossed his armored arms on the steel table. "Who's to say that bounty hunter you have following you around will never be identified?"

Drake consciously stared blankly at him, frowning slightly. "That's no one of consequence."

"See?" Nial pointed a finger at his face. "I highly doubt it."

Growing annoyed, he decided to change the subject. "So whose target did I off last night?"

"Mine, you inconsiderate bastard. Now the Inquisitors are all up on the case with their agents. No more prestige, no rewards. All of this for what? To impress your girlfriend."

"I'm just glad you can answer your own questions."

"This is serious, or are you being intentionally dim? You can't place your personal business above the orders. This is why you're always left here to rot with the masses. When's the last time you went off-world?"

"Come on, that's just mean."

Nial sank down his hot tea. "We could shine in the Outer Rim systems, friend. No chaperons, no policing and best of all, no Jedi. People there actually believe _we_'re the good guys."

"Hm. No more swimming against the tide..." Seduced by the concept, Drake would have to take a moment to consider. "Well, everyone knows me here."

"And what is that worth in terms of advancement?" Nial got up and left a tip, Drake followed suit. "Just remember that you're wearing a uniform, not a costume."

There was no question that Nial had reasons to pull him back in line and before Drake started counting the many opportunities opening for his fellow Sith, he caught himself wondering what Daen was up to. If she had decided to leave the apartment for the day, he needed to have her as far away from him as possible right now.

Nial climbed on his speeder, mask back on. "I just have one question for you, Riden. Would it be too much for me to ask for the Jedi's lightsaber?"

"I suppose you have the right to claim it." Drake got on his own bike and started the engine. Thinking back to the other night he realized the weapon might not be at his apartment, or in his quarters at the Temple.

"Well?" insisted Nial, growing impatient. "Where is it?"

Calling Daen to have her leave the lightsaber at his apartment would be a mistake, and so was giving Nial _any_ lightsaber Drake had collected over the years. He'd figure it out soon enough.

"You'll have to buy it off my bounty hunter."

Nial shook his cloaked head, disgruntled. "I'll slit your throat where you stand."

"Alright, _fine_. I'll handle it."

He knew Nial's patience was wearing out and he wondered for how long he'd be able to keep Daen a secret. They moved into the trader's district and down several floors below the surface where "shady" took its full meaning in terms of business relations. Parked in a hangar, welcomed by a service protocol droid, Drake and Nial stood beside a cluttered desk in what appeared to be a mechanic's shop-slash-reception office. He picked up a piece of transparent plastic square on the table which seemed to have holographic properties if repaired correctly. The rest was just random electronics, most likely looted off some geek.

Nial folded his armored arms in front of him. Drake looked him up and down exaggeratedly.

"Couldn't you look _more_ hostile?"

The Zabrak didn't budge. "We're both dressed exactly the same."

"Shoulders down, hands where they can see them. I've already lost enough with your attitude."

Gray durasteel doors slid open behind the desk, appeared a short female Twi'lek in work overalls and spots on her green-skinned tattoos. Behind her a tall, stunningly white Wookie by her side, carrying a large concussion rifle. He roared something foul at their sight, apparently as surprised to see them as Drake was.

"Woah, settle down, Churko," said the female. Her designation was Tessan Ki, supposedly. Drake took notice of the strange shaped tattoos on her forearms. He'd say she was passed forty but it was easy to be mistaken with that species. "Sorry, I tried to tell him what or who you guys were before, he just likes to react that way."

"We mean you no harm," he replied, looking at the big furry alien, "we're here for business."

"That's what I like to hear." Ki took a seat at her desk and ran a hand over the clutter to clear room for a datapad that she turned on. "Got to say I don't feel too hot about those masks either."

Drake pulled a data chip out from his belt pouch, she extended an arm to have it. "It's all in there."

"Huh." She processed the data through her computer, beginning to suspect something. "Your delivery's not here yet."

"We can see that," replied Nial, sarcastic.

"Hey, I'm sorry, alright? My tracker doesn't get instant live updates on everything happening up the shipping line. Especially not for encrypted cargo ID like this."

Unmarked, unregistered, fully operational blaster arms. Five crates conveniently "lost" out of weapon industries through a dozen relay points through the Mid Rim. Drake slightly leaned over the desk, showing authority but some restraint too.

"Just tell us anything we could use."

She looked into his mask and tried to smile but her face didn't comply. Like everyone else, she was getting pretty scared. Diving back into her computer systems, she made them wait a little longer. Nial stood farther back, looking straight at the Wookie who softly growled in his throat.

"So it seems that your courier got stuck on Ord Mantell," she said, nervously scratching the side of her neck, scrolling her screen down with her other hand. "He's been there for two days..."

"Any starport code for the ship's status?"

They could have been under customs arrest, illegally parked or plain and simply destroyed by competitors.

"Nope, you'll have to call your guy. Sorry."

She handed him the chip back. Drake took it and nodded, unwilling to have anything to do with these two if they weren't going to be of any more help to him. They probably felt the same way, as in _hoping these freaks would get the hell out of their hangar_. Drake and Nial got back on their vehicles.

"All these manners for so little result..."

Trouble was pointing its nose into his economy and he knew his fellow co-worker was worried too. They were basing their retirement funds on these alternate revenues after all.

"I won't bring you along the next time I need their help."

"Well, those are _my_ investments too, remember that."

"The question is: are you ready to go AWOL for a few days so we can pick up the cargo?"

"Ourselves?"

Drake shrugged and started the engine on his bike. "You said you wanted off this planet, here's an opportunity."

"Ord Mantell is not my scene."

"It's not mine either. Luckily I have just the right tour guide for us."

Taking Nial up to his private apartment hadn't been an easy decision, but he needed to show that Daen was more of a co-worker than a friend.

She stood firmly in the middle of the living room, arms crossed.

"You don't need an escort," she said. Two black-robed Sith didn't impress her for a second. "And you don't need to go to Ord Mantell, whatever you need there I can send Mak to retrieve it."

Drake bit his lip behind his mask. "It's a little more complicated than a retrieval operation."

"We can't trust more people with this information, Riden." Nial glared at him. "We're already losing enough money with the delay."

Daen seemed alerted at the mention of credits, and raised a suspecting eyebrow. "From what I gather, you two aren't very good at this smuggling business."

"That's why we need your help," Drake replied, mirroring her condescending tone.

"Yes, you do." She sat down on the couch and crossed her legs. It didn't look like a comfortable position with her armored suit on. "I want ten percent."

Drake chuckled. "Please."

Nial took a step closer. "You better keep a short leash on your girl, or I will forget my good manners."

Daen smirked, overly confident.

"Woops! The fee just got to twenty! You seriously need to brush up on your bargaining techniques."

"Alright, fifteen percent." Drake motioned for Nial to relax, palm down. "On my share."

She got back up and grabbed her helmet that was sitting on the table. "Agreed!" She pulled her tongue out at Nial and disappeared behind her own mask. "The first one to get to Worlport wins a lightsaber."

They watched her rush out towards the hangar where her speeder was parked since the previous night. How was she going to travel to Ord Mantell if she had no ship?

"What is she talking about?" asked Nial.

"We take our starfighters to get there," replied Drake, deep in thought. "Hit hard, get the job done. And sell some good propaganda among the Republic-loving smugglers."

"_Or_... Grab a shuttle ticket, lay low and sweet talk our whole way through. No diplomatic incidents." Nial sniffled with disdain. "But let's do it your way."

Worlport was the capital of Ord Mantell, and while corrupted from all sides the government and authorities still remained loyal to the Republic. Drake skimmed the HoloNet data file on the local politics and shut his on-board computer off. It was time for a change of costume.

Sith were issued a starship with the bare minimum, no room for trivialities though they still had a sleeping cabin and a cargo hold. Drake opened up a storage closet to retrieve a shoulder bag stuffed with food rations, in another pack he kept a set of neutrally aligned clothes and light armor, fake ID chips, a blaster.

He walked off his ship down on the docking bay at the spaceport, feeling strangely exposed without his mask so he pulled the collar of his trench coat up. The fresh early morning breeze felt like a slap across his face. A protocol droid came up to him with a registry datapad and he got his fake chip scanned. He didn't even know which name that was. He kept walking until he arrived up towards Nial's starfighter – thanking the Force nobody happened to stand there, watching, not even a mechanic – and wanted to laugh.

"You should have warned me we were going for a real tour. I left my holocam at home."

Nial set foot on the ground with an amused grin on his tattooed face. His outfit was just as alarming as a Sith uniform because of how ill-fitting it was for him. Blue-skinned Zabraks did not pull off the tourist look, anywhere ever.

"Where is your lightsaber?" he said impartially, squinting behind a pair of decorative spectacles. And his multi-color printed shirt barely took the attention away from his knee-level pants that revealed his very blue calves. "Or did you sell it off to buy that disgusting coat?"

Drake shook his head in disbelief. "Sorry. I couldn't hear you over the sound of how awful you look."

"Working as intended. Just wait till we take our weapons back: it's going to be ludicrous. Then I'll kill them all."

"I'll leave you the honors."

Eventually out of the docking bays, terminals and passenger lobby areas Drake stood out on the street, hoping to find Daen around soon. While he did that, Nial looked conspicuous, pretending to compose a text message on a small comm device.

"I suppose this is _acting_ _casual _for you," told Drake.

"Just keep talking," Nial mumbled back, not looking up from his gadget. "Master of disguise at work here."

Ord Mantell, for someone like Drake who had always lived on Coruscant, was barren. Okay, closer to country than town, rugged, gritty... all those things. What Drake couldn't understand was the wait, and why he was sure he had seen that spaceport security agent walk by twice already. There was just _nothing_ to do.

It took ten more minutes for Daen to show up at the controls of the speeder he was used to seeing.

"My, oh my," she said as they climbed aboard. "Did I just step into another dimension or am I at the wrong gate?"

Drake sat on the backseat and looked over at her, smiling discretely. She hadn't changed her outfit so it felt strange to be the one without the helmet and he couldn't see her eyes through her visor.

Nial stowed his handheld comm in a belt pouch and cleared his throat. "I believe there was a contest for the first to arrive and a prize to be had?"

"Oh. I got here first, it's the speeder rental that took a long time, so yeah. I get to keep the lightsaber. Equal rights, balance of power. Win-win."

"You'll regret that decision soon."

She turned her head around and laughed out loud through her voice filter, but Nial's serious expression didn't fade. Next, she drove through the city with ease, as if she'd done it numerous times before. And Drake spotted a few Republic shoulder patches, propaganda graffiti and posters on some walls. He fought against a knot in his stomach: he didn't want to end up in some backwater Republic prison to be humiliated by some Jedi.

"Here we are," Daen called.

They had stopped at a large repair shop for vehicles and ships. When he got out to look around he realized the "shop" had its very own landing pads. Then there was the working force: lots of species in overalls busy around engines, bikes, droids, and even a laundering appliance. His instincts said he was looking at a cover front.

Later a man showed up: human, imposing, in his forties and with a shiny scalp. Daen removed her helmet and he gave her a fatherly pat on the head. He sized Drake up with a glance before getting horrified at the sight of Nial.

"I'm not the one to talk about fashion," he said. "But that outfit just made my brain throw up a little bit."

Daen, smiling up to her ears, made the introductions. "Guys, this is Mak. My role-model, great cook and all around scoundrel."

"Don't listen to her," he said, with a familiar smirk on his face, "private contracting is my area of expertise now."

Drake shook the hand Mak offered to him. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Autographs and souvenirs in the back of the shop," he replied with a sharp nod. "If you kind gentlemen would follow me..."

Nial shot a nasty look at Drake and he shrugged at him. He had actually taken care of looking up Mak Cera a long time ago, when Daen first got involved with bounty hunting. It had turned out that the man had long left active duty among the Mandalorians to spend his retirement days away from the battlefield.

They took a seat in front of a large desk in a untidy, cramped up office - Mak sure wasn't fussy about his records - while Daen stood near the door like a bodyguard.

"I've heard about your cargo," Mak blurted out, leaning on his desk with his large arms folded. "Five crates, unregistered, not-yet-issued weapons?"

Nial jumped off his chair, an accusing finger pointed at him. "Tell us where they are!"

Drake used the Force - yes, it was necessary in this precise moment - to pressure his colleague to settle down with a firm tug at his shirt. Mak didn't even flinch, and just leaned back in his chair with an air that said _who are these clowns?_

"We could use your help to retrieve them, if possible." Drake said and motioned his head towards Daen. "She got my hopes up saying you could do that for us."

Mak rubbed his chin thoughtfully, not hiding a hint of amusement. "Well, it could be tricky, considering the fact that it's already looking for a new buyer in a pretty harsh side of town..." He looked up at the ceiling, then snapped his finger. "I know. Daen'ika, will you go ahead and call your brother for me? Tell him it's about payback."

"Oh god," she said, rolling her eyes. "_That_ again?"

"It'll work this time."

"Right."

She disappeared through the door. Mak got up and opened a locker behind him.

"So, as I was saying, it's gonna be tricky but I figured that now we have a couple more hands to do the heavy lifting and, besides, I got a score to settle with one major competitor."

He turned around, one pretty large assault blaster rifle in his arms, cradled like a newborn. Drake nodded approvingly and Nial sat there speechless.

"We can't let these crates be sold again," Drake said. "Who took them?"

"Some broad who owes me money. And _feelings_." He loaded a power cell into the rifle, eyes squinting with anger for a second before his face resumed to its friendly expression. "But mostly money."

"Revenge," Nial commented, smiling sadistically. "_Nice_."

Mak grinned. "Hah, yeah! It's great that you're psyched about it, but I beg of you... Change back into your scary robes. I want to crush these thieves."

There was no time to lose and Mak was good at scrambling into action. In a matter of minutes, he had managed to change from his "smuggler slacks" to a practical set of sand and silver armor with a T-visored mask, the mark of all Mandalorians. He kept it clipped to his belt while it wasn't needed. Despite the looks, the man that acted like a slob was still fit to fight and Drake had to admit he was impressed.

They gathered within the more confined space of a trader ship: a light corellian freighter, surprisingly more clean than the shop or the office. Drake found Daen there, sitting at a holo-console.

"Load's on his way," she announced.

"And Load is?" Nial asked.

"My other son," Mak replied, carrying two small duffel bags from the cargo hold. "You three will get along just fine."

Drake watched the man extract what obviously looked like an explosive charge and waved the thought of warning him that he needed his merchandise intact and not blown to dust.

"So how did you know about the information on those crates?"

Mak eyed him sideways and seemed to hesitate, but shrugged and answered casually. "My wife told me. She relocated on Coruscant... Big fight, blah blah. You probably don't know this yet so let me warn you: do _not_ marry your hot female coworker. Especially not if it's a _Twi'lek_!"

The thoughts sunk in Drake's mind before he could understand what Mak was referring to.

"Interesting..." Nial said. "Your wife left you for a Wookie."

"Hey." Mak dropped what he was doing to point a menacing finger at Nial. Drake almost gasped, thinking the explosive would hit the ground and they'd all die. "Churko is a lifelong family friend who owes me his furry ass. And Tessan doesn't do furries. End of story."

Daen turned around on her chair to face them. "Drake, your friend needs to switch the Sith off now and then."

"Can't help with that. It's the constant social alienation from facial tattoos."

They all laughed, except Nial who kept it in, though at least he'd stopped complaining.


	4. Chapter 4

Drake remembered why he thought that, despite all the regrettable events that had separated them, Daen was doing alright with this bunch of unruly people.

The transport from which they had planned to disembark at their objective was sturdy enough to crash into a permacrete wall. Which happened, not without reminiscing for Drake and Nial the way they sacked the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, years ago. Armed and pumped up with battle adrenaline, two fully suited mercenaries jumped off the ramp and started shooting at whomever. Drake had his blaster out and took part in the effort to disrupt opposition, spraying from left to right. There was a dozen or more pirates in what looked like a hangar similar to Mak Cera's.

Beside Drake stood Nial, back in his Sith uniform, was standing ready with his lightsaber out.

"Cargo or not," he said, "this is my kind of retrieval mission."

Mak grabbed one wounded henchman by the collar and screamed at his face, as if the muzzle of his weapon wasn't persuading enough.

"The weapons. Sharta. Go!"

The man pointed a shaky hand towards a double hinged door and Mak dropped him so he could bleed out in peace. Daen positioned herself near the door, kicked it open and slammed the stock of her rifle into a running Rodian's face. She was completely in her action-cop zone. Drake smiled, feeling relieved for his mask so that others wouldn't see his expression, and so she wouldn't get distracted by him. They all proceeded into the narrow hallway in search for the cargo, or the Sharta person Mak was so eager to find.

"I swear on my own grave I will make that whore pay," growled Mak.

Drake wondered what was the issue with that person but kept his curiosity under wraps for the time being. Mercenaries, smugglers and pirates always were in some kind of feud with each other. Wars fueled competition and good business. The group soon approached the end of the hallway.

"No remaining guards," Daen said, bringing up a holographic map from her gauntlet display. "This is the main room, she has to be there."

It was far too quiet for Drake's taste.

"Scary guys," called Mak, turning towards him and Nial. "Sensing anything of interest?"

Taking a slow, deep breath Drake closed his eyes to let his Force remote-viewing skill take effect through the armored blast-doors ahead.

"Ten individuals," he replied. "They're planning an ambush."

"But the cargo is not there," added Nial.

"First things first." Mak walked up to the steel-plated doors and inspected its control panel carefully. "If this is a trap, why would they barricade themselves in? I think they're trying to escape."

"Then let's blow this bad boy," said Daen, reaching for a charge in her backpack.

Drake saw Nial moving up to the door as well, and motioned for Mak to step aside.

"Allow me."

He stood merely five feet away from the huge durasteel panels, going deep in concentration, so intensely focused that Drake sensed the Force rippling.

"What's he doing?" Daen asked Drake, not without a hint of worry in her voice.

"Showing off."

The metal was starting to move and tear with disturbing whines and screams under the pressure.

"Remember when they said you couldn't bend durasteel with the Force?" said Nial, almost with his teeth clenched.

Mak shook his helmet. "_Not_ the kind of plan I'd imagined."

"It would go faster if you'd just cut around it with your lightsaber," Drake told Nial.

"I know, friend. But I can sense their fear growing... Get ready."

Drake joined in his effort with a last blow to push the door in. The noise was threatening enough to scare a Rancor and if the pirates weren't gone by now they were probably busy setting up a trap in there.

When the breach was complete, dust filled the hallway and they could only hear faint coughing and concrete rubble falling on the ground.

_Show time_.

Drake ignited his lightsaber almost at the same time as Nial did, two bright red glowing shafts that immediately drew enemy fire upon them. Ten blaster rifles against two Sith, reflecting every bolt and sometimes bouncing them back to their shooter. They couldn't stand a chance, Daen and Mak wouldn't even need to fire their own weapons.

When the dust settled Drake saw that he was batting off laser shots from mostly male humans but he spotted a red-haired female in the back of the room, hiding behind a pillar, tapping something on her gauntlet-mounted computer. That was Sharta, most likely. He charged a man wearing a chest harness and torn up trousers that was cooking a detonator, sliced through him and cut the grenade in half. His Trandoshan friend, startled to see Drake suddenly close, brought his blaster pistol up but not fast enough, and got his noseless face punched in by a spiked Sith glove.

Most of the henchmen had gone down from ricochet when Mak and Daen stepped in, and it was just Sharta left in her corner while Nial was taking care of one last bodyguard. The man with paramilitary gear was floating in mid-air, hands up to his neck, franticly trying to pull away from an invisible choker.

Drake turned away from the scene and walked up to the woman, using his lightsaber as a search light in that dark space she was sitting in. Despite being the head of a powerful little pirate gang, she didn't seem very courageous, or even strong at all.

"P-p-please!" she said as soon as Drake stood over her. "Don't kill me!... I have three children-"

"My ass," shot out Mak. "Quit being such a lying piece of crap and show yourself, Sharta!"

She had greenish gray eyes, lovely face, probably a little bit over forty, and sat with a confused expression when she heard Mak's voice. The man arrived beside Drake, blaster rifle aimed at Sharta with clear intentions.

"Take us to your treasure room," he said sardonically.

Pinned down and out of options, the smuggling competitor now in restraining cuffs lead them to a vast inventory of goods. Drake immediately spotted the five weapon crates still sitting on a repulsor lift. Nial inspected the cargo with his datapad and nodded to signal that it was all there.

"Not quite what you expected to get into, is it?" said Mak.

"You know the rules, darling. We take the money, we don't ask questions. We won't even open the box."

"Time to bring these babies back home," said Nial, pressing the command buttons on the lift's pad.

In a matter of minutes, with the help of a strategically placed boarding ramp at the roof of the storage hangar, they were all aboard a modified freighter ship hovering menacingly close to the ground. They managed to get all of the crates to fit in the cargo hold and the ship was airborne before planetary police forces were onto them. Yet, something didn't feel right for Drake. He stood with Nial in the hold of the merc ship and finished inspecting the last of the special issue weapons they'd gone so far to retrieve.

"This isn't over," Drake thoughtfully spoke.

"You know what this means, brother. This world needs to be shown a lesson, and dare I say that we got here just in time."

"Why does it always come down to politics with you?"

"Why not? You do politics all the time. In a mundane, unrefined kind of way but you still do."

"I'm not ready to take a whole system by myself."

A mischievous smile was obvious in Nial's tone. "Not by yourself, you have me. And once we're done here you'll be free to return to your slums and cut-throat gangs while I relish in my new kingdom."

Nial got his datapad out and casually sat on a crate. Drake allowed him some time alone and joined the rest of the crew back in the main quarters. Lodius Cera, his unofficial business partner and now pilot of the freighter ship, looked at him and they greeted each other with a nod. They both had to get this quickly over with before getting back to their urgent matters on Coruscant.

In the mean time, their newest guest with her hands tied in her back, was sitting quietly while everyone seemed to think of what was to happen to her. Drake looked down at Sharta and took her chin between his fingers. She defiantly pulled away with white marks on her face, but that simple touch was enough for him to understand.

"There was no money for you," he said with a smirk. "This is personal, am I wrong?"

"I've got nothing to say to your kind, Sith."

"My, my..." Mak came closer to look at her trembling lips and glassy eyes. "Well, I'm not surprised that a sellout like you would give in to the local propaganda."

Sharta quit trying to hide her emotions and spat back at him. "Same as you. At least I'm doing my part for the greater good."

Mak sighed audibly and spun around in disgust, Daen simply scoffed under her helmet. But Drake understood Sharta's intentions, however foolish and reckless she was about them.

"People are expecting you somewhere at some point," he said in a steady voice, building his strategy as he spoke. "If you truly care about the _greater good_ you would avoid the Republic at all cost, and find a new line of work that doesn't involve interfering with us."

Somehow those words triggered a tear to roll down her stoic face, then she collapsed to the ground and sobbed. Even Daen seemed perplexed.

"You have a way with women..."

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" added her foster father. "Good thing I cut our deal short when I had the chance, Sharts. You're even crazier than I remember."

Suddenly Daen took a knee and slung her blaster around her back to grab Sharta by the shoulders in a comforting yet firm grip.

"Come now, let's get you some privacy. Crazy girl."

Drake followed them into a small room. Somehow the thought of her alone with Sharta was a bad idea. Daen placed the woman on a cot and gave her a blanket. She stood in front of her for a couple of seconds and shrugged at Drake. They both closed the door on Sharta and Daen removed her helmet. She took a deep breath and brushed a strand of sweaty black hair from her face.

"What the hell just happened?"

They were joined by Mak and Lodius. Drake, following Daen's example to pull off his mask, just decided to blurt out what he knew.

"We got ourselves the future mother of a Jedi-to-be. And at her age it doesn't look like she'll have another chance at breeding naturally." He looked at the door as if it was see-through. "She's a Force-sensitive magnet right now, better not drop her off anywhere near us."

Mak didn't even try to contain his laughter. Daen simply looked horrified.

"What are you going to do about her?... it?"

The thought of her not agreeing with him made him hesitate. He tried not to rely on his training, it would make him take the more brutally honest approach and that was usually Nial's part.

"I guess that now she's worth a lot more alive than dead," he said, trying not to sound too calculating.

"Bummer," replied Mak. "Was looking forward to some payback."

Drake wanted to expedite the problem, perhaps even jettison Sharta out the airlock because then he could return to Coruscant and back to his usual business. Then he looked at Daen and she seemed troubled like he'd never seen her before. He somehow knew that if he reached out to her with the Force – emotionally – she wouldn't be there. Whenever he felt vulnerable he would turn to anger, hatred, dark places... and she had her own defense mechanism that he couldn't hack into.

Soon enough they were off-planet, blasting away at light speed heading for Coruscant. Drake emerged from the refreshers having discarded part of his armor and his cloak, his face still humid with the cold recycled water he'd splashed over it. A table was set in the main lobby. Dinner time. This was almost alien to him, eating dinner at the same time as other people.

Daen and Mak were already there, and Lodius appeared with a pot of something hot and smelling delicious. He was Umbaran. To say that there weren't many of his kind around was a huge understatement. If Drake read his data correctly, Umbarans were not allowed to leave their homeworld, ever. It was a cultural thing. And somehow this one "child of the night", as they were called, had ended up among a small group of Mandalorians.

"Someone explain to me why there is a washed-up redhead traitor in my quarters," he muttered, pouring a strange-looking grub in a small plate and handing it to Mak.

"She was having a fit and was bringing everyone down. When she's gone just remember to get a new mattress."

"I think you need to check your human biology again," Daen remarked. "She doesn't even look pregnant."

Nial stared disapprovingly into the bowl of mash placed before him. His black-inked blue face made the unemotional Lodius appear more friendly by comparison.

"I hope you don't call yourself a chef," he said. "I think I'll bring this to our expecting guest who could be hungry."

With that he stood and brought the food out to the sleeping quarters. They all looked at him leave, probably wondering what he was really up to, but Drake didn't have the heart to stop him and ask. The grub was actually tasty despite appearances. It was a mix of main course and dessert, though.

Lodius sat down and started eating as well, munching mechanically while staring at Drake. He wasn't used to seeing the bounty hunter without his helmet on, and direct eye contact was unsettling because of his bright blue eyes. He'd seen him in action so he wasn't without knowing that the Umbaran was able to veer people's judgment and thoughts with a psychic trick.

"What?" Drake snapped at his former partner. His mind was impossible to read.

"Tessan has asked me to invite you to our family dinner party. Consider yourself booked for the next couple of weeks."

"Couldn't she have told me herself yesterday at the shop?"

"What my mother does and the reasons why she does them are completely beyond me."

The two other Ceras laughed.

"It means you're going to be part of the family, kid." Mak smiled kindly, at odds with his tough brow and jaw.

His eyes went to look at Daen, still in a distant state of mind, and she didn't say anything.

"I'd be honored," was all that Drake could say without letting too much of his happiness show.

Lodius took a sip of water before clearing his throat.

"We deal with this unfinished business we have on Coruscant. I don't care what happens to the crazy pregnant female."

Ah, yes. The other woman that was causing trouble for Drake in the first place still need to be put under control. That kind of suspicious behavior among young Sith adepts could jeopardize his lifestyle. There would be no family dinner.

Nial came back to the table and poured himself a glass of water, grabbed a handful of dry crackers and looked around.

"I had to stay and watch the prisoner in case she wanted to choke herself with the utensils."

A silence filled the room as Nial ate the crispy bread, a bored look on his tattooed face. Drake looked across the table towards Lodius.

"She doesn't get off the ship until we're done with our business on Coruscant. I don't want to find myself explaining to the Sith how we stumbled upon the unborn child of a Jedi from Ord Mantell."

Later on, Daen was on the command deck with Lodius and Mak, chatting quietly amongst each other. Drake felt very much intruding when they spun their heads to see the doors part on him.

"Hey," she said. "We're not getting any faster, you better take a nap."

It sounded like a wonderful idea, immediately he pictured himself lying beside her in total bliss. He waved the thought away before it turned into a need. As he was about to speak, Mak and Lodius had their predating eyes on him in a typical protective way of Daen. He gave up, and made a hesitating hand gesture to get her to follow him. She opened her mouth in a mixed expression and complied, there weren't many places for them to go besides the corridors anyway.

"Weird day, huh?" said Daen, hands in her pockets. When she'd peel off her armor and with her hair still wet from a recent shower, his eyes lingered more than he'd usually let them.

"We got what we came for, and then some. We're not entirely sure what's to become of Sharta."

"Please tell me you're not just letting her go."

He arched an eyebrow. "What did she do to your father exactly?"

"She got a lot of our personal stuff sold off to mercs in the outer rim. A greedy bitch she is and always will be. I don't care that she's got a bun in the oven, she's not getting off so easily even after all these years. I was just a kid then but it really got to us. Good thing mom was around, dad wouldn't have gotten over losing his first kit of _beskar _to some punk..."

"We'll think of something, don't worry. But I think Nial wants to get his hands on the Jedi responsible for the pregnancy."

She shrugged. "Another Jedi hunt. I'm in."

He breathed in deeply before touching her cheek. She still seemed troubled and wouldn't share her feelings with him.

"What's wrong?" she said, waving his hand away.

Drake paused to weigh his options, perhaps withholding his doubts and concerns were a good alternative.

"You and I should take a break from this. I want to know what's going on in that head of yours, get to know your family and live by your side for a change."

"Wow, I wasn't expecting that." She blushed slightly, and looked towards the cockpit. "I thought you didn't like thieves and scoundrels?"

Hesitating, he paused for a moment. "I was a little harsh, I admit."

Daen looked him in a way that expressed more than just skepticism or _why can't you just say what you mean?_ And it was intimidating. Impatiently, she blew air through her nostrils and pushed herself from against the bulkheads to walk down the corridors. Drake followed her until they were in a secluded space, the crew member room with multiple cots which could serve as a holding cell but he didn't give it more thought.

"Okay, now we can talk," he said, taking one step away from her. "Why are you nervous? Is it because of Nial?"

"No," she replied. "Well, not just that.."

Her eyes averted from him and her arms were still crossed. Whatever Drake had done or said wasn't causing this, he sensed there was something bothering her.

"Your family doesn't seem to mind having Sith around... If I decline the dinner invitation, will it make you feel better?"

"Please, don't." She focused back on him, a hopeful look on her face. "I'm looking forward to it, actually."

"Then, what is it?"

He touched her arms hoping to get a grasp of her feelings. Her lower lip trembled for a micro-second. Drake had known her to suppress her feelings at times, and this was the wrong time. Her cheeks were warm as he held her face. The passion he felt through her was infuriating, so much that he couldn't put words on the mixture of emotions rushing through his brain. Head to head, they breathed the same air for a few seconds and Daen spoke barely loud enough.

"I don't ever want to lose you."

Obviously he knew that already but she needed reassurance, something he couldn't give her if he wanted to stay realistic. His life and hers were dangerous ones but he had always known that kind of risk. On the other hand, she had enjoyed security and comfort for the first half of her existence. Then her parents both suddenly disappeared... She couldn't handle losing him as well.

Drake gave her a kiss and they hugged for as long as they sensibly could. Her expression was more relaxed when he looked at her again. For how long could they go on living with the fear of separation?

"It's not easy being near you," she said with a resigned tone, "and I'm not making it easy for you either."

"You need to work on that. There's only so much I can do to understand when you lock up on me." He lifted her chin up with a finger. "Tell me what you want."

She heavily sighed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I want... you not to be a Sith anymore."

As much as she was a free spirit and a vagrant, his allegiance was to the Empire and the Order. What ever decisions he made were never for his sake but for the work he did on Coruscant. He couldn't give up his powers and simply turn his back on the Sith. He'd be labeled a traitor, hunted down. Then executed, of course.

Holding her arms, he prepared to disappoint her yet again.

"We've been over this... So, aside from that we can work something out together. After I finish with Lodius we can take some shore leave, what do you think?"

"Sounds very nice but do they ever let you go on a break at the Slave Academy?"

He decided to ignore her sarcasm.

"I'll let Nial cover for me. He's been waiting to take the credit in my place for a year."

"And you believe he would do that for us?"

"Nial might be a sociopath but he's a friend. I'll find a way to convince him and I know that, deep down, he wants what we have."

Her smile came back and she affectionately touched his chest. She opened her mouth to say something but Drake couldn't repress an urge to let her know how he felt.

"You're what keeps me going, Daen. I'm strong because of you and not because of the Force, or what the Sith taught me."

"I- why should I believe you? We barely spend time together, and you become more and more distant every time I see you."

"Don't do this," he said, his vision got blurry. What proof did she need to see that he loved her? "I need you in my life."

"Then we don't need time off. Raising suspicion, hiding... There are too many people out to get you and I can't live in your shadow anymore. If you love me..." Daen took a breath, and he saw a tear roll down her face. "If you love me you won't make me wait around for you."

She tried to pull away but Drake couldn't let go of her hand. Looking up, her eyes widened with fear.

"I'm sorry," she pleaded. "You need time to really think this through."

He felt like a sting in his chest as he tried to speak but he had to hurry. If he kept her captive it would make her feel worse. They would have another chance to talk.

"Okay," he replied obediently.

But he wouldn't change his mind; all he ever thought about was her, every day that passed without her felt like an eternity. And when they were together they were afraid to spoil the moment, to come off too intense to each other or to become possessive. He had to find a way to be with her more often, he had faith that eventually he would get what he deserved.


End file.
